The Run and Go
by narwalish
Summary: It's always midnight. Always. Neville sits awake in bed, waiting for the eagle owl to perch itself on the windowsill and tap at the glass until the boy acknowledges it. When it happens, he is ready. He learnt early on to wait up; there was always too much risk of any of his dorm mates waking up first. The letter always says the same thing: I need you. Set during OOTP.


Don't wanna call you in the nighttime

Don't wanna give you all my pieces

Don't wanna hand you all my trouble

Don't wanna give you all my demons

You'll have to watch me struggle

From several rooms away

But tonight I'll need you to stay.

-Twenty One Pilots

It's always midnight. Always.

Neville sits awake in bed, waiting for the eagle owl to perch itself on the windowsill and tap at the glass until the boy acknowledges it. When it happens, he is ready. He learnt early on to wait up; there was always too much risk of any of his dorm mates waking up first.

He's already at the window by the time the bird has settled outside it, quietly pulling it open so not to wake the others.

The letter always says the same thing: I need you.

It's quarter-past by the time he makes it to the seventh floor, and he double checks he's alone before pacing in front of the seemingly blank wall.

I need a place to feel safe. I need a place where no one can find us.

The massive pair of doors appear and, looking up and down the hall to check he's not being watched or followed (he couldn't think of a worst time, place, or situation for Umbridge to find him in), he slips inside the room.

It's not small, but it's nowhere near the size of the room he and the other members of the D.A. use. There's only a few pieces of furniture filling it; a two-seater sofa, a bookshelf with all their favourites (and all of their necessary textbooks- they both enjoyed some quiet time to do their homework together), a small table, and an always-comfortable queen-sized bed. It's warm and cosy- homely- without a sign of a House colour anywhere.

He's already sitting on the sofa when Neville arrives, curled up in his silk pyjamas, one of Neville's jumpers pulled over the top. (The latter has to grin, the resulting effect of the mismatched outfit making the boy look far smaller than he actually is.)

Neville stays quiet, only closing the door a little heavily to alert the other student of his arrival. It's only when Neville is sitting down next to him that he speaks up.

"It's Her again, isn't it?" There's only a small sniffle which comes from the bundle of ugly sweater. Neville presses harder.

"What did she do?" Still nothing. "Draco. Talk to me, please." The bundle shuffles slightly, and Neville finds a head of soft, platinum blonde hair pressed into the crook of his neck. He speaks softly into the jumper, Neville hears every word.

"She asked me if she knew anything about P-Potter, or this thing you lot have got planned." Neville stayed silent, waiting for him to finish, desperate to hear the answer.

"I said I didn't. I said I'd tried fraternising, but I hadn't found any evidence of an illegal club or organisation. I said that, maybe for once, Potter wasn't plotting anything."

"What did she say?"  
"Do."

Before Neville had a chance to ask what he meant, Draco pushed back a sleeve, holding his left hand up for Neville to see.

I must not tell lies.

It was still bleeding, the skin surrounding the wound a nasty red. Anger bubbled in Neville's chest, his throat, his stomach. Draco laughed bitterly, a hint of sadness to it.

"Same thing as Potter's got. I was there until about 15 minutes ago."

"She can't-"  
"Don't you dare say she can't get away with it, because she can. McGonagall would never listen to me, I'm a member of the Inquisitorial Squad, a Slytherin, remember?" He spat the word, the name of his house (which he always spoke so highly of) now a dirty word in his mouth.

Neville didn't say anything for a while, choosing to let Draco sniffle quietly in his lap. After all, who would listen to him? He'd made himself quite the reputation, and going against Umbridge would only end up getting back round to his father. A double edged sword.

"You don't call me as much as you used to. It's been a month since you last owled." Draco tensed underneath him,obviously hoping that Neville wouldn't ask.

"I've got a lot on my plate right now. You don't need that."

"I don't care!," Neville exclaimed, "I'm always here for you, you know that." Draco scoffed at the words.

"After everything that's happened? After what my aunt did to your parents? I bullied you, Neville!" He paused, letting the words sink in. "What have I ever done for you? We're enemies." There were angry tears filling his eyes as he stared at Neville, waiting for his response. Neville did the most favourable thing he could to calm Draco down- he kissed him. It only lasted a moment, the taste of coffee and honey felt like like coming home. He felt Draco relax beneath him, cheeks wet against Neville's.

"I can tell you've changed," Neville said, brushing away a stray tear from Draco's cheek, "You've grown up, so have I. You're a better person now, I know it. You're not your aunt, or your parents."

"I've said terrible things. To you and the others."

"You've said wonderful things as well. Like protecting the DA. You're brave, Draco."

"No I'm not. I didn't protect you lot because I'm brave, I did it because I'm a coward. I can't even pluck up the courage to tell one person about us."

"That doesn't make you a coward. True, it doesn't make you brave, but you're not weak for having secrets. We all have them."

They sat in silence for a while longer, Neville knowing that he'd won the argument, for now.

"So, what sort of stuff does Potter teach you in that club of yours?"

"Well, last week, Harry was teaching us how to do a Patronus charm." Draco raised his eyebrows.

"Did you manage it?"  
"Nah, couldn't quite get it. Looked big, though." Draco chuckled.

"Sod off. It hard to get it to work, you know." The Slytherin had slipped into straight-up giggling.

"What are you- oh. Oh, really mature." Neville rolled his eyes, joining in with the laughter.

"Sorry. You said it!" Draco grinned and Neville, pleased to see him finally enjoying himself, cuddled him close. Draco reciprocated, moving into Neville's lap.

"You make me feel so tiny- bloody giant, you are."

"Hey, you're the one in the giant's jumper."  
"Oi! It's warm- I'd like to see you survive in the dungeons in silk pyjamas every night."  
"Silk pyjamas are so impractical anyway."

"They're the only ones my mother buys me."

"Rich people, I ask you."

* * *

"What happens if Umbridge finds out?"

Draco piped up after another long silence.  
"Finds about what? Us or the D.A.?"

"Us specifically. Either way, we're fucked."

"True. I'd say if she finds out about us, there's not much she can do to you, your father's too high up for her to do anything really bad. Me, on the other hand…"

"You're especially fucked." The two of them laughed, despite the subject matter.

"Well the rules do state that no witch and wizard can be within 6 inches of each other."

"Pretty good for us, eh?" Neville grinned, giving Draco quick kiss of the cheek.

"Yeah." Draco yawned, alerting Neville that it was already much later. There was a

solemn smile on Draco's face.

"Draco? What's the matter?" Neville gave him a small squeeze around the shoulders.

"What if she does find out, though?"

"Then fuck her. We've lasted this long, haven't we. We'll be fine."

"But what if we're not."

Neville thought about it for a moment.

"Then I suppose we'll have to deal with sore hands for a while. 'Cos I'm not giving you up any time soon."

Draco yawned once more, his eyelids drooping as he rested his head on Neville's shoulder again.

"Thank you."

Neville held him tight until he, too, fell asleep.


End file.
